Breakaway: SkywalkerSaga 1
by DawnsJediWind
Summary: R&R! SW,TCW AU. After Ahsoka leaves him a year into the War, the Council assigns another padawan to Anakin. Can he get over his loss to train her? Can she heal him and save him from the Dark Side? Can he love again? Read to find out!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing **

**Rated: T w/possible M content in later chapters**

**A/N: This story is part 1 in AU series I'm gradually working on. I haven't been writing on this story as often as I'd like due to my crazy life and Darth Writer's Block, but I'll hopefully publish more in the next few weeks. I'm presently going back over what chapters I've written, and am reedited/reposting them-so don't freak if you notice a few changes:) **

**Part 2 of my AU series is already published and half-way completed. It's _Resolution: SkywalkerSaga 2_. So feel free to hop on over there and take a look. **

**As always Read &amp; Review (I love to know what you guys think about the crazy things my overly active imagination comes up with:), and..**

**May the Force Be With You. **

**{DJWind} **

_**"...I**f I could break away, _

_cut the cord, for worst or better. _

_If I could turn the page, _

_at last and say goodbye forever. _

_But on the other side of yesterday, _

_beyond the heartache. _

_What if all I am, without the pain, _

_is empty hearted?_

_I could breakaway..." _(Breakaway, Celine Dion)

**Prologue: **

_**T**__hey stood expectantly, waiting for her response. Anakin held his breath, his heart throbbing slowly in his chest. He suddenly felt faint and weak—oh so weak—as he prevented himself from breathing until he knew; until he heard her answer with his own ears, until he knew for sure if she was staying or not. _

"They're asking you back, Ahsoka," he stepped forward, unable to bare the silence that pushed into like a heavy weight any longer; he had to shatter it, to hear something other than what the Force was telling him to believe. "I'm asking you back," he opened up his hand, exposing the beaded chain that indicated she was a Padawan of the Jedi Order. He looked at her, eyes searching for an answer he felt she was reluctant to give. His throated tightened and his mouth dried as he tired again to unsuccessfully ignore the Force probing at him, pushing him to face the truth.

He refused to believe it.

It was just…too painful.

Ahsoka looked up at him, then at the chain in his hand. She closed her eyes, trying to waylay the muster that threatened to spill into her eyes and down her cheeks. "I-I'm sorry, Master," she took his fingers and covered the chain, "but I'm not coming back." She turned away, closing her eyes against the sharp, stabbing pain that cut through her heart like no knife could, and walked away; way from the Council and away from her Master.

Anakin stood there a moment, the chain still in his hand, his fingers clutching it like it was a life-saver—the only thing that prevented him from drowning in the sew of swirling emotions that suddenly crashed over him in overlapping waves. The other Council members around him looked out after Ahsoka, accepting the fact that the Jedi Order was not this Padawan's destiny. Only Yoda bowed his head in grief as piercing sorrow flooding through the Force from young Skywalker. He closed his eyes as the anguish intensified, and leaned upon his stick for support and the comfort of something familiar. The old Master lifted his sad gaze as he felt something shift in Anakin, and watched him leave the chamber, intending to retrieve and reason with Ahsoka, then casted his tired eyes down, sensing it would be useless; she was already gone—lost to them forever.

"Ahsoka! Wait!" Anakin called after her as he ran down the Temple's entrance stairs as if his life depended on it, which in truth it did. "Ahsoka, I need to talk to you!" He didn't slow his pace until he'd caught up with her. She stopped, but hesitated to turn and face him, feeling his grief and angst at her decision to leave, but she had thought long and hard about this for many days, especially as she faced the murder trials. She knew she'd made the right decision, however hard it pained her to make it.

"Why—are you doing this?" Anakin cried, feeling his heart breaking, realizing that she was already lost to him.

Ahsoka turned to him, face shrouded with sorrow, eyes blinking back insistent tears. "The Council didn't trust me," she explained, "so how can I trust myself?"

"What about me?" Anakin tried to argue wit her, but his heart wasn't in his words; it was fluttering, barely about to pump the blood through his veins as it broke into tiny pieces like a piece of glass shattered by a bullet. "_I_ believed in you! I trusted you. _I stood by you!_"

"I—know you believe in me, Anakin, and I'm grateful for that, but…" Ahsoka hastened and glanced away, unable to gaze into those blue depths that started at her in utter disbelief. "This isn't about you," she said. "I can't stay here any longer—not now." There was just too many things Ahsoka had found she couldn't believe in, in the Order and in the Code. The Council was wrong in so many ways, on so many levels. They were too skeptical of new ways, of new thoughts and ideas, so doubtful of so many things that involved _change_, that she could no longer stay. She found she know longer knew them the way she'd thought, she could no longer trust their fading wisdom. She had to leave, live her life the way she wanted, even if that meant abounded the her family among the Jedi and going far, far away.

"The Jedi Order is your life!" Anakin tried one last attempt to reason with her, to bring her back to him. "You can't just throw it away like this! Ahsoka, you're making a trouble mistake!" _Don't do this to me!_ his eyes added, bagging her to stay.

"Maybe…" Ahsoka was still uncertain in the rightfulness of her decision, but she trusted the Force and what it was telling her, she had to to live. "But I have to sort this out on my own—without the Council…and without you." She turned away, unable to bare seeing the look of deep hurt on his dejected face.

Anakin turned away from her, incapable of looking at her any more, it was just…too painful for him. They'd gone through too much not to make this parting—this _farewell_—without feeling it. They'd gone through so much together that he'd finally begun to think they would always and forever be together, not just as friends, but as something more.

"I understand," his voice grew heavy and deep. "More than you realize, I understand wanting to walk away from the Order…from this war."

"I know," and his eyes widened as he realized that she already knew and understood all those feelings he'd kept from her, hidden behind the mask of the Master. He turned around to look at her, the sorrow replaced by surprise. She turned, and their eyes met, both filled with passion and pain as they finally comprehended the truth. They both felt it, their hearts bent the some tune for one brief moment. Ahsoka reached out, cupped his cheek in her small hand and stood up on the tips of her toe as she leaned forward and brushed her lips against his. It was too much for Anakin, and he sobbed into her mouth, letting his restraint go and the tears rushed out in a sea of emotion. She broke the kiss, and turned away, letting her hand fall from him. With steady steps she walked away, descended down the stairs of the Temple into the fading sunset.

She didn't look back.

Anakin watched her go, the tears flowing freely down his cheeks, damping the collar of his tunic. He felt his heart break in two with a final _crack_, and a deep aching felled his soul. He collapsed to the stones, burying his face in his hands, and sobbed, crying out with heart and mind for a rescue that wouldn't come. He was drowning in an ocean of grief and agony more severe than he'd ever felt in his whole life, and there was absolutely no-one to dive in after him, bring him back to the surface to breath—to live again.

Anakin had loved Ahsoka, as much as a man can a woman. They'd been through so much, seen and done and said so much in the past three years it was extremely hard for him not too. At first it had been only a simple, unashamed admiration for her, but that feeling had gradually developed into something deeper, more profound, until he realized that he truly care for her, more then he even cared about himself. He wouldn't died fro her freely and with hesitation if the situation called for it. But now…

He had nothing—no-one else to life for, to make life livable for him every again. Anakin was ready to die and become one with the Force; he no longer cared.

Θ

"I'm worried, Master," Obi-Wan confessed, his voice low and concerned. "I'm worried about Anakin. He hasn't said anything since Ahsoka left. He's barely left his room, and hasn't eating anything."

"In mourning, he is," said Master Yoda, joining the other Jedi to look out over the cityscape from the towering High Council Chamber far above. "A broken heart, he has. Deep the wound is, and long it may take to heal."

"Is there anything we can do?" Obi-Wan asked. "He's not like this, and I don't like to see him like this way, Master.

"Nor should you. There is only one thing that can—perhaps—help him. Another Padawan, Skywalker should take. Help him, mediation and isolation will not. Do something to forget Teno's absence, he must."

Obi-Wan nodded, understanding where the wise Master came from, but nevertheless surprised that he would dare mention a thing, especially for Anakin. In the beginning it had only been an experiment on the part of the Council. To test Skywalker's habit of forming attachments a Jedi shouldn't have, and to test his responsibility and maturity before they granted him the level of Jedi Master. It had become clear to the Council that he'd past all the tests of training Teno expect the attachment he'd almost instinctively formed with her. Obi-Wan had observed that instead of _distracting _him on the battle-field, such attachments made him grounded and level-head, to think matters through, and oftentimes exceed the impossible.

"I—don't think Anakin is ready," said Obi-Wan, voicing his thoughts aloud as he recalled the look of profound _grief_ he'd seen on his young friend's face the day Ahsoka had left. He'd felt it too, they'd all felt it, and he knew Anakin would never recover.

"Ready, he perhaps never was, and will never be," Yoda answered. "But need this, he does. There is a particular youngling ready for a Master. Long, I have watched her, and good, I sense she will be for Skywalker."

"I hope you're right," Obi-Wan tired to prevent doubt from sipping into his voice, but Yoda sensed it nonetheless and smiled slyly, his otherwise weary eyes brightening with sudden mischief.

"Sense a great change about to come, I do," he observed wryly. "Yes, a great change…of many things."

Θ

Anakin walked slowly, uncertainly down the corridor towards the turbo-lift that would carry him up the Council Chamber high above the majority of the Temple. He wearily rubbed his eyes of sleep and tears, his shoulders sagging as his hand fell back to his side. He didn't even bother debating if he should straighten his disheveled appearance or not, he was too tired and his heart was too heavy, he just didn't really care anymore, not after Ahsoka left him.

"Skywalker," Master Mace Windu greeted him quietly as he stepped out of the lift into the certain of the Chamber. What other members of the Council could attend, acknowledged his presence with courteous nods of the head. Yoda observed him with sad eyes while Obi-Wan studied him keenly under a semi-curious gaze.

"Masters," Anakin's voice was low, heavy with grief. He didn't bow to their presences, but stood erect, waiting their judgment upon him.

"Mourning, you have been," said Yoda. It wasn't a question, but a quiet observation of expectation and understanding.

Anakin nodded, and let his eyes fall on the patterned floor of the Chamber, he was too tired and hurt to contradict the elder Jedi.

"Weary, you are, and heavy of heart," Yoda continued to observe him like a prized piece of art.

"Yes, Master," Anakin felt he should say something to assure them that he was still there, listening _to them,_ and not just going through the paces, most of his mind adrift elsewhere, until the Council session had ended.

"A request, we have for you, young Skywalker," said Yoda at length, finishing his observing of the younger Jedi. "A new Padawan learner, we have for you to take—"

"No!" Anakin glanced sharply up, his decision set in stone, his eyes flashing with cold fire. "I'm _not_ taking another Padawan!" He lashed quickly out. He didn't want to fail again, and he knew he would if he took another apprentice under his wing.

"This is for your own good, Anakin," said Obi-Wan gently.

"I'm not going to take another Padawan, Master," Anakin said again, firmer. "I'm not going to fail again!"

"Blame Ahsoka's decision to leave the Order on yourself, do you?" said Yoda, eyeing him under heavy brows, his long pointed ears reach forward curiously.

Anakin didn't reply—couldn't make himself reply—but instead hanged his head, never feeling more alone than ever before.

"It wasn't your fault, Anakin—" Obi-Wan began.

"No!" Anakin glanced up again, his eyes smoldering with boiling frustration and unshed tears, his voice hard, yet cracking with emotion. "It was all our faults! If the Council hadn't doubted her word to begin with, she would still be here."

"And right, you are," said Yoda sadly. "At fault, our wisdom is, I'm afraid. But gone she is, and it is the will of the Force, I believe. Take this Padawan, _you will_."

"I-I—" Anakin stammered in dismay, trying to sway their decision.

"Take her, you will," said Yoda, his voice preventing any further arguments. "Old, she is, and many Masters will not continue her training because of it. You will."

"She is Padmé Naberrie," Mace Windu added, informing the young, baffled Jedi. "She is the Representative of the Jedi Order in the Senate. She begun her training at three, but has been unable to continue it regularly due to her interest in the political field. You will take her and train her until she's ready to past the trials. Master Kenobi will take you to her. You will be required to stay with her in private apartment, as her teacher and protector, until called upon.

"Yes—Master," Anakin bowed his head, and turned to leave, incapable of saying anything more, for there were no words for him to say that expressed how he felt. They'd proclaimed his doom to failure, and he had no choice in the matter but to accept it to the best of his abilities. He wondered about Ahsoka; maybe she'd been right to leave the Jedi Order, maybe he could follow her and find her wherever she'd gone, and they could live happily together, away from the war, the Council, at peace and alone. But a part of him knew he would not never be happy with that life, that just wasn't who he was, and he sensed such a path was not the will of the Force. But what was the will of the Force?

Anakin had a strange, sudden felling it involved this Padmé who he was soon to meet.


	2. Chapter 2

**1**

_**A**__ tall, black beast, or man—it was hard to him to tell which—strode determinedly through the turbo-lift doors and down an open air corridor. He was clad all in thick, black armor, a black velvet cloak bellowing out behind him. A polished black helmet and mask concealed his face, his breathing coming in loud rasps through the respirator that kept him alive. On his hip bounced a black-handled lightsaber. He came to the end of the corridor where doors to yet another turbo-lift opened up to reveal an older, grey-uniformed man and a young man, several Clong Stormtoopers behind them with weapons at the ready. _

_ The older man stepped forward to meet the black beast. "This is the Rebel who surrendered to us," he reported, "although he denies it, I believe there may be more of them, and I request permission to conduct a further search of the area. He was armed only with this." The officer handed the beast a familiar object:_

_Anakin's own lightsaber. _

_The black beast and young man began to walk side-by-side slowly down the length of the open corridor. The man was about Anakin's own age; of medium height and build, his hair honey-blonde and eyes bright and of crystal-clear sky-blue—eyes that forced the dreamer's attention more thoroughly upon him. _

_There was something about this particular man—something eerily familiar, like he was apart of Anakin, and yet…not. An air of nobility and naivety surrounded him, as well as warmth and peace. His heart seemed good and kind, but not pure of the fealties of life; he seemed to have suffered much, and grown in wisdom and mercy because of it. _

_ The young man walked with the black beast now, head held up high—but not in pride, jaw set in a determined line that seemed oh so familiar…._

Anakin awoke, surprised to find himself waking with such calm and assurance he'd not felt in days after Ahsoka's trial and departure. For days he'd confined himself to his small bedroom within the Temple; crying, sleeping fitfully, and venting out his anger and frustration at the Council by throwing anything breakable at the walls. He was angry at the Council, at Plo Koon, at Yoda, but most of all himself. He'd failed, failed her as a teacher and failed her as a friend.

Anakin rubbed the sleep from his heavy eyes, suddenly feeling like he hadn't rested in days, though he'd slept after he'd sobbed his heart out. It stilled ached—it would always ache—a gentle throb that pierced him deeper and deeper each time it pulsed. He took a deep, shaky breath and stood up from his rumbled bed. He stumbled through the debris of twisted metal and shattered glass that scattered the bedroom floor, to the nearby window, and looked out. It was far into the day, noon by all appearances, the Temple's daily life well in advance. The young Jedi rubbed his chin, frowning as his callused fingers brushed against newly sprouted whiskers. He turned from the shaded window, reaching for his robes that lay crumbled on the floor, and wrapped them crudely about him. Anakin decided he would risk abounding the broken comfort of his room, and search for something better to eat and drink than rationbars and water.

Fortunately the corridor outside was empty of all occupants, and Anakin made his way silently and quickly to the Temple cafeteria, peering around the doors to see if it too was empty of anyone. A few younglings, sneaking away from their afternoon classes, gathered at one table, absorbed in their mischief. The Jedi entered the cafeteria, shielding his presence from all, then into the empty kitchen where he quickly found what he sought. Gather up the bowl of cereal and glass of bantha milk, he made ready to leave and return to his room when a throat clearing startled him and he momentarily let go of his future breakfast. Before either of them could reach out with the Force and capture the dishes, they had already fallen to the fall, spelling their contents and shards all over the floor.

"_Tut-tut,_" said the interrupter in all too familiar tone, "you should _really _pay better attention then that, Anakin." Obi-Wan looked at him from under heavily furrowed brows, but there was no hint of annoyance in either voice or face, but sadness and concern.

Anakin stood back, leaning wearily up against the countertop, looking down at the remains of his breakfast all over the kitchen floor. "What do you want, Master."

Obi-Wan approached him, carefully picking his way through the streaming mess. "Anakin, _where_ have _you_ been?" his voice was weighted down by strain, never a good indication from the younger Jedi's experience.

"Here," Anakin replied flatly, crossing both legs and arms.

"The Council assigned you your new apprentice _two days again_. And yet you insistent not to see her. Why is that?" Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, demanding an answer from the other man.

"Do I have to give a reason?" Anakin's mood had dramatically soured in the last few seconds of the conversation.

Obi-Wan rubbed his temples, feeling an impending headache. "I know this is hard for you, Anakin, but it _is_ for the best," he reasoned diplomatically.

Anakin started up from the his casual position, suddenly very much annoyed and angry, and lashed out at his old Master fiercely, "If I hear one more person say that, there'll be hell to pay! I didn't ask for this. I don't _want _her!" Why can't any of you understand that? I'll fail her like I failed Ahsoka."

"It's not your choice, _Anakin!_ It's the Council's. Do you have the nerve to question—go against the Jedi Council?!"

"I'd certainly like to!"

"And do you know what _you'll_ be doing to Padmé if you do? You'll be destroying her chance of becoming a Jedi. You'll be taking away the only opportunity for her to be trained and became a part of this Order. This isn't only about you, _Anakin Skywalker!"_

Anakin stared hard at the older Jedi, his hardened eyes flashing with cold fire, though he reluctantly found truth in Obi-Wan's words that he couldn't deny. They stared intensely at each other, both unwilling to back down even for a second, blue met blue, young against the old. Obi-Wan perched his lips together in an even deeper frown, and crossed his arms over his chest, standing back and setting out the storm that was Anakin. Anakin glared deathly at him, and almost—for a split second, the older Jedi swore he saw pure, bright yellow spring up to envelop the blue, then the hate subsided and the Jedi turned away with a growl and marched out of the kitchen with stubborn, angry steps.

_If you're so inclined to ruin me,_ Anakin's bitter voice came through the Force to lash out at Obi-Wan, _tell me where I can find this Padmé, Master!_ He said the final word with as much scorn and coldness as he possibly exceed. Obi-Wan winched at his resentful tone, and closed his eyes as he took several breathes to steady his suddenly shaking nerves. He'd caught something in Anakin's face, in his voice and body language that cased his normal composure and understanding to be shaken into oblivion, that cased him to become suddenly _very afraid. _ For a moment, he didn't see Anakin as he was but as he felt he would become; a monster clad all in black with yellowy-red eyes that burned with engulfing fire. A man who lived only for hate and death, and revenge; a soulless man with a stone heart, moved by nothing but his own greed for more all-consuming power. Obi-Wan stumbled to the counter, hands reaching blindly for something to keep him upright as his own keens suddenly buckled under him. He closed his eyes as a sea of voices and images passed before his mind, his heart throbbing painfully in his chest, too slow yet too fast at the same moment.

"What have we done?" He murmured as he began to wonder just what was really going on not only to Anakin, but to the Jedi Order and Republic themselves.

_What have we done?_

Θ

The Senator Representative of the Jedi Order looked down at the assembly of Galactic Senators from every known and occupied planet, now gathered in the heart of the Senate Building. She wore a elaborate gown of dark, purple-blue velvet, her rich brown hair down up in a winged style that framed her fair face. Her keen brown eyes glanced back at her companion, the Viceroy of Alderaan, Bail Organa, a tall man of dark complexion and hair, and of deep wisdom and understanding. He caught her wondering eye, the frown displayed on his face deepening profoundly as they listened to the heated debate swirling through the Convocation Chamber.

At last, thoroughly disgusted with the turn of events, Padmé Naberrie of Naboo turned away and retreated from the Chamber, closely followed by Organa and silent, hooded handmaiden.

"This shouldn't have happened!" She vented out as they strode down the assembly corridors on their way back to her Senate office. "Why does Chancellor Palpatine insist to continue funding the war? I don't understand it."

"There's much we don't understand," Bail replied slowly, "even more so, I fear, concerning the Chancellor."

Padmé glanced at him keenly, curious to know what he meant by his words.

Sensing her desire for him to explain, Organa quietly went on, "I fear the Chancellor has gained too much power in the Senate. He's been in control far too long. It-It just doesn't seem right, and I'm not comfortable with it."

"You speak of treason," Padmé said surprised.

"No," Bail shook his head, "I speak the truth. The Chancellor has been granted too much power over the Senate, and over this war."

"But those are emierancy powers," Padmé protested. "He will be required to give up those powers once the war's over."

They entered her office, the doors hissing behind them, and Padmé drifted gracefully to the nearby windows that gave a stunning view of the Galactic City that stretched on as far as the eye could see, towering skyscrapers of shimmering steel and glass. She crossed her hands before her, a troubled expression coming to her distant eyes, and sighed. She felt the truth in her friend's words, a truth that however hard she tried, she simply couldn't deny nor ignore for any length of time.

Bail strode across the carpeted floor and joined her.

"When _will _the war be over?" Organa asked of no-one in particular. "We all aim for the same thing: the ending of the war, but we've been no closer to that then when it began two years ago."

"What are we going to do?" asked Padmé.

"Nothing—for now," Bail answered quietly. "There are so few Senators to support us, I'm any move we make may be fatal. No, we must wait. I don't like _any _of this, but what is there for us to do without the Chancellor suspecting us?"

Padmé glanced sharply at him, sensing there was something incredibly important he was withholding. "You have something in mind, don't you?"

A glimmer of smile came to his lips but quickly disappearing back into a somber expression. "There…is something. But—this isn't the time to tell you. Some things are best left unknown for the time being."

"Yes," Padmé agreed with a nod of the head. She gazed back through the window at the simmer sea of structures that lay between the Senate Building and the place she found her eyes now resting upon; the Jedi Temple. From its midst, a rapid flash of anger came to her from someone, just as quickly to be replaced by profound grief and a sense of abounedment she'd never experienced before. Though she was not naturally deeply a-tuned within the flow of the Force, these emotions were too strong for them not to be felt by those nearest. But she was some miles from the Temple, though she could see it clearly in the day, so why was _she_ sensing these intense emotions?

Padmé withdraw from the Force, sighing with relief, and breathing deeply to steady her pounding heart. She turned to Bail who still stood beside her. "I must go now. I have a private appointment in an hour."

Bail bowed his head politely before her, saying, "I will leave you then, Senator Naberrie." He straightened, adding quietly, "It was good to see you again."

"Likewise," said Padmé, and she watched him retreat from her office. She sighed again; she produced this was going to be a _long_ afternoon.

Θ

"Patience, Anakin," Obi-Wan quietly advised as the young Jedi shifted his weight to one leg and tugged down his tunic, smoothing out invisible wrinkles yet again for the ninth time in the last minute. He adjusted his heavy utility belt, making absolute certainty that his lightsaber was in place, and squared his shoulders, the feel of the heavy brown cloak over them almost unbearable. Anakin ran a hand through his hair, shaggy with oil, then glanced down at his mechanical hand and adjusted the black glove protecting it. He'd lost his physical one nearly two years ago in the Battle of Geonosis that sparked the beginning of the Clone Wars. It had taken him many months to heal and get used to. Even now he sometimes had difficulty doing simple tasks like writing or eating with that particular hand. To say that he was now an expert in using his left hand was an understatement. A thick, black leather glove padded the durasteel wirings of his robotic arm at almost all times, making it feel far heavier and more cumbersome than otherwise.

Anakin shifted his weight yet again, casing a sigh to escape the older Jedi beside him. He turned and glanced irritably at Obi-Wan, the mood intensifying between them. He'd not been too pleased when his old Master had offered to tag along with him, the mishap earlier sill unforgotten, or unforgiven, but he'd not objected, too tired to care or argue. They were now in the turbo-lift taking them up to the topmost apartment of 500 Republica, the most famous address on Coruscant, where they would meet the Senator and Anakin's newly appointed apprentice. He was far from looking forward to that encounter, but he begrudgingly excepted his fate. He knew very little about his future apprentice apart from what Windu had told him at their last meeting two days before.

Anakin sighed, annoyed at his naivety; he couldn't wait for his curiosity to be quenched with reality, thus he could barely stand still for a second before having to move _some _part of him in nervous expectation and irritation.

"Relax, Anakin," Obi-Wan sighed again. Both of them knew extremely well that Anakin would never relax for a millisecond of his life; he just wasn't the patient kind.

_Oh, I have a bad feeling about this,_ Anakin thought, not wasting the breath to reply to Obi-Wan. He glanced over his shoulder to look out the lift's back wall window, his eyes gazing over the passing scenery as they sped higher up the apartment complex; he had to admit the view was incredibly beautiful from this height, he just might be able to get used to it after all. After studying the looming skyscrapers, his eyes rested briefly on the round doom that marked the Senate Building, then he let them drift away.

The lift came to a sudden stop, and the doors slid silently open.

Anakin strode across the threshold, gathering a determined air about him as he marched into the sparsely decorated apartment. It was fashionable and airy, but not too luxurious, with clean round lines and contrasting colors of cream and sky-blue, the floors covered with indoor-outdoor carpeting of the same quality. The Jedi were met by a tall man of dark complexion and black hair, a black eye-patch over one eye, and a petite handmaiden hooded in gray velvet. They motioned Anakin further inside to the living room where the Senator awaited them. Seeing him approach, she rose with dignified grace, and Anakin turned his heated eyes fully upon her for the very first time.

She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

He was one of the most handsome and powerful man _she'd_ ever seen.

In a flash, Anakin's pent-up frustration dropped from his shoulders, leaving him refreshingly bare of emotion except surprise.

They stared at each other, surveying each other thoroughly.

Since the very first time she'd felt his presence, Padmé had sensed Anakin's boiling anger, and had carefully concealed her own emotions and presence from him. She'd sensed that he was in a dangerously irritable mood, the root case of which she didn't know nor understood. She'd physically and mentally braced herself for their encounter, and—despite her best efferent—had paled ever so slightly when she saw him enter the room so boldly; brown robs flopping behind him, eyes flashing with blue fire. But when he'd stopped before her, surprise written all over his face, and his eyes a tide-pool of confusion and frustration, she'd felt all those rolling emotions disappear from him as soon as she'd risen to greet him.

"Master Skywalker," Padmé acknowledged him with a nod of the head, her eyes sparkling curiously at him before turning to the other Jedi who'd joined them. "Master Kenobi."

"Padawan Naberrie," Obi-Wan spoke first. "It's good to see you. I take it you're well?"

"Very," but Padmé soft smile soon slipped from her lips, fusing into a swallow frown as she recalled the events of that morning. She sat back down on the sofa, motioning the Jedi to join her.

"I sense there's something troubling you, young one," said Obi-Wan, observing her keenly.

Padmé sighed, "There's much that troubles me. The Chancellor has agreed to continue funding the army, and I don't agree with his decision. This war is stretching for longer then is should."

Obi-Wan nodded, and opened his mouth as if to give some positive reply when Anakin suddenly spoke up, "That's not all, is there?" He looked closer at the young woman, his formerly hardened eyes softening almost affectionately at her; his tone gentle and reassuring like that of a mentor or friend.

Padmé looked at him, and answered honestly, "No, there is more." She shifted slightly on her cushion, suddenly feeling very uneasy under the Jedi's eyes, "But—I don't want to bother you with my troubles."

"You are part of the Jedi Order," said Obi-Wan, "your troubles concern us all."

"Indeed," Padmé rose up, no longer feeling include to push the matter further, and sensing that, the Jedi let her be. "You must be very busy, Master Kenobi," she said, leading them through the living room back to the turbo-lift, "you mustn't stay here longer than necessary."

_ A polite way of getting rend of him,_ Anakin thought with contained amusement as he followed them.

"No, I shouldn't," Obi-Wan agreed, smiling. "There's much to be down, and I take it you have a lot of work to do. Good-bye then—Padmé…Anakin," he nodded towards the said Jedi, his voice quieting, "you know where to find me if you need help. Your things will be brought here as soon as possible."

"Yes, Master," said Anakin with no bitterness or irritation edging his voice. "And thank you…Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan's smile brightened, his eyes twinkling with satisfaction and affection for his young friend, then he turned away and left.

As soon as the turbo-lift doors closed behind the him, Padmé turned back to Anakin, and said courteously, "I'm very grateful to you for excepting me."

Anakin simple shrugged, not having the heart to tell her the truth was that he'd had not choice in the matter, and that the Council had enforced him to take her or else… But he had the strange sensation that she saw something of the truth, but she said nothing more on the subject.

"It's been very hard for me," continued Padmé as she glided gracefully back into the apartment, "so few Masters don't want to train an 'old' apprentice."

Anakin scowled deeply, disliking this situation more and more with each passing minute, but glancing back up at Padmé before him, his disdain and unease left him, and an odd sense of calm and warmth envolped him through the Force from her. His scowl turned into a smile—one that brightened his distraught eyes and softened his scarred face.

"I will train you as well as I can," Anakin promised.

Padmé smiled, something Anakin was become used to by now and finding that he actually enjoyed seeing it in her otherwise serious face. "I'm sure you will, Master Skywalker—"

"Anakin," he interrupted. "Please, call me Anakin."

"—Anakin," she finished softly, and his heart fluttered almost a stop, his throat tightening for a reason he couldn't explain. The way she said his name made him sound so…so _special_—loved almost, he thought. Anakin blushed and lowered his eyes bashfully, like he was suddenly given a compliment he'd not expected and didn't know quite want to do with it.

"Do you want to see the rest of the apartment?" Padmé asked, sensing his embarrassment and want to put him at ease at once.

"Yes, I would," Anakin quickly excepted, and with another soft smile that melted the warrior's sorrow felled heart, she lead him away through the apartment, describing its every facture though Anakin wasn't really paying attention. He found that he couldn't keep his eyes off of her, all else fading away next to her beauty and kindness that eased anyway a little piece of his anger and grief.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I'm back! It seems like I haven't posted anything on here for _forever_, but life is life, and full of Darth Writer's Block. **

**Feel free to suggestion any ideas for this story! What would _you _like to see happen between this two? I'd love to know!  
**

**EnJoy!**

**2**

** N**ight had fallen, and a pleasant cool breeze stirred the hot, stuffy atmosphere that suffocated Coruscant's inhabitants daily. Anakin made his way to the open balcony off the living room, and leaned up against the railing, looking out over the city that sparkled with thousands of lights like the stars above. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, remembering how much Ahsoka had liked looking up at the stars; he used to. When he was a little boy and would set out on the Temple roof look up and dreaming about one day visiting every known—and unknown—star system. Things had changed drastically since then, but he kept those wonderful childhood memories close to heart.

Anakin had been an orphan. His mother, Shmi, had died shortly after his birth, and he'd been brought from Tatooine to the Jedi Temple by Qui-gon Jinn, who defied the Council and took and raised him alongside his other apprentice, nine-year-old Obi-Wan. Qui-gon had been a good, loving, stable father-figure in Anakin's early life, and after his abrupt death at the hand of Darth Meal, Obi-Wan had naturally taken his place in both raising and training the boy. Anakin often thought about the stern, but understand old Jedi, and missed him terribly—especially when he felt most confused and neglected. He felt Qui-gon would understand him better than the others; he'd been infamous for defying the Council's orders, and had had his own struggles with attachments.

Anakin's throat tightened, and he closed his eyes as tears willed up as he recalled Qui-gon for the first time in years. After his death, he'd had no idea how to handle the grief, but had trained and pleased the other Jedi Masters as best as he could. He'd cried, but only in the dark confines of his bedroom. Anakin lifted a sleeve and brushed the wetness from his eyes, swallowing past the huge lump that formed in his throat. He cleared it, then looked back out over the darkened city, out towards where he knew the Temple rose up on the horizon.

Padmé paused on her way to the kitchen when she saw him on balcony. She stopped to watch him, a black form against the dark blue sky, his hair a rich gold under the lamp light. His presence seemed sad and lonely, his shoulders slumped wearily, and Padmé's heart reached out to him. _Don't be sad,_ she whispered in the confines of her mind.

She went the balcony's door, laying a hand on the cool metal, and asked softly, "Master?"

Anakin started, for he'd not sensed her approach, and turned to face her, "Yes?"

Padmé stepped through the door, and joined him, letting her hands rest on the railing. "Are you alright? You seem—sad."

"Just remembering," Anakin confused, "my old—Master. He was like a father to me. He died fifteen years ago."

"I-I'm sorry to hear that ," and the sympathy displayed in her voice identified that she really was.

Anakin shrugged, but didn't answer.

They stood in silence, looking out at the star-streaked sky, the gentle hum of the passing air-traffic below luring them to relax.

"I miss my family sometimes," Padmé confused sadly. "I miss the Lake Country where we'd go to in the summer—we would swim out to one of the island, then lay out on the sand, guessing the names of the birds that sang. Sometimes, I wish I could go back."

"When was the last time you went to Naboo?" Anakin asked curiously. Due to his lack of information concerning his new apprentice, he was naturally eager to learn as much about her as possibly. He knew by now that she hadn't been raised as a typical Jedi; she'd been allowed to be raised in a normal mid-class family with occasional visits to the Temple for further education.

"Three years ago," said Padmé. "Before the war. I was being threated by an assassin of Dooku, and the Council thought I would be safer there. But—it didn't turn out that way. Now, with the war, I don't have the time or expense to spare to see them."

"I'm sorry," said Anakin. "This war has taken much from us."

They lapsed into silence once more until Anakin asked, "When did you become a Senator?" _She's really not much older than Ahsoka, _his thoughts continued as he observed her more. Padmé was one of the first Jedi to become a Representative for the Order in the Senate, protecting and voicing their interests in the politics surrounding the Republic. The Jedi and Senate had always been closely connected—Anakin himself was a good friend of the Chancellor—but in recent years, the Council had felt that their voice in the Senate was undermined and disregarded. They'd then voted for a single Jedi with political interests and a determined will, to be placed in the Senate to insure that their opinion was heard in the galactic politics. The Chancellor and numerous others had disliked the proposal, but the vote had passed.

"Four years ago," Padmé answered. "The Council offered me the position, and I couldn't refuse. I felt it would be one of the best ways to serve the Order—and the Republic."

"I'm glad," said Anakin. "I think the Republic needs people like you. I found that even some senators don't entirely trust the Jedi."

"Unfortunately that option is growing. The longer this war is going, the more people begin to doubt if the Jedi came make it end. The HoloNet press doesn't help either."

Anakin frowned at the mention of the infamous HoloNet press that did little but speculate and spread false rumors of varies sorts around the systems, the kind of trash many citizens actually believed in. It was oftentimes incredibly difficult to decipher the truth, even if you were first hand to it.

"I'm not a politician," Anakin said after a pause, "but sometimes I feel the Senate spends far too much time debating over the facts that actually _doing_ something about them."

"That's what we try to do," Padmé explained. "But so many Senators are corrupted that it makes it extremely difficult for deciduous to be made."

"Then someone should _make _then agree," Anakin argued vainly.

Padmé looked at him, her brows drawing together in confusion. "That sound's too much like a dictatorship," she stated.

Anakin sighed, then he suddenly smiled, bowing his head in embarrassment. "I'm sorry," he apologized, "I would make a terrible politician."

"Yes, you would," Padmé's eyes twinkled and her lips upturned in a shadow of a smile. "But, if you want to know how the system works, you can come with me to the Senate tomorrow."

"I think I will," Anakin readily agreed, "I really don't have anything better to do." He turned from the city view and strode off the balcony back into the living room. "Can you tell me what you've been trained in." He settled himself down on one of the nearby sofas and lifted his boots to the low, glass-topped table between them. Padmé sat down opposite him, forcing herself not to grimace at his dirty boots on her clean table, and folded her hands in her lap, letting her straight back relax.

"Master Yoda had done most of my training," she said. "He taught me the basic of fighting and mediation. Some others—such as Kenobi and Koon—have given me pointers and guidance now and then, but I'm afraid I'm still a novice."

Anakin nodded understandingly; he sensed that Padmé didn't like the fact that her training was very much incomplete, but he felt that she possessed a stable presence in the Force and was eager to learn more, a good foundation for any apprentice.

"Have you constructed your lightsaber?" he asked, noticing again that she didn't seem to be visibly wearing the weapon.

"No," Padmé replied regretfully, "I don't have one."

Anakin raised an eyebrow at this. Usually younglings of about ages of nine or ten were given the important task of retrieving their first saber crystals and constructing their individual weapons, oftentimes before they were selected to become apprentices under a master.

"That's usual," Anakin voiced his thoughts aloud.

"Master Yoda felt I wasn't ready," said Padmé. "I'm not very good at fighting anyways," she added.

"_Well—_" Anakin eased himself off the sofa, realizing that he could quickly fall under the inventing spell of sleep if he sat too long, "you're going to have to learn." He stood up, stretching his tense muscles. "The Council will most likely put me on temporarily leave from the war, but I'll have to return to the front lines eventually, and you may be going with me."

Padmé bite her lip and cased her eyes down, concealing the fact that she disliked fighting unless absolutely necessary and if it was the only alternative to a situation.

"Now—if you'll excuse me, I'm going to retry," Anakin's manner was now cool and businesslike, casing a shiver to run down Padmé's spin, but she simple smiled in return, indicating he could leave.

Anakin left without another word, and retreated to the guestroom prepared for him. It was a simple bedroom with one curtained window, a closet with metal sliding doors, and a dark-stained, wooden desk with the hologram, holonet, and comm connection laid out on it. By a low bed, a single side-table and reading lamp were placed. It was altogether very cozy, pleasant yet simple, and similar in space and style to his own room in the Jedi Temple. Kicking off his boots, Anakin laid down on the bed, not even bothering to take off his tunics for more suitable sleepwear, and closed his eyes, welcoming the unconscious embrace of sleep.

It took Padmé far longer to settle down and sleep than he. An evening person by nature, she stayed up long into the night hours, writing and editing reports, speeches, and amendments for the upcoming day. But her thoughts strayed often, and her concentration was drawn more and more to her new Master. There was something about him—something underneath the mask he put up to hid his true thoughts and emotions—that both concerned and fascinated her to no end. He possessed a power she'd never come in contact with before; it was completely composed of the very essence of the Force. But he was also deeply wounded and sorrowful; Padmé could see it in his eyes, and it pained her in a way she couldn't describe. She felt that Anakin was a good man—a very good man with the noble heart of the warrior he was—but he'd lose something vital to him, and it was slowly destroying him from the inside out, turning him into a servant of the Dark Side, a ghost of his former life. She pitied him, and realized just how lucky she was. She had a loving family, a job and home she loved, and a few close friends she adored. Anakin—he was confused, alone, lost, uncertain what exactly the Force wanted him to do—to become—to the point he no longer entirely trusted it anymore.

Padmé put down the datapad she'd been studied, realizing that her concentration had slipped once again. She sighed, rubbing her eyes than glanced at the nearby chonco—it was 0200 in the morning. Standing up from her desk, with a wave of the Force, she switched off the nearby lamps then strode through the darkness up to her bedroom. Her steps slowed as she passed the room to Anakin's room. She stopped, debating if she should sneak in and check on him or not.

She didn't. She wasn't strong enough.

Lifting up her nightgown and rob, she continued up to her room, shutting the doors silently behind him.

Θ

"**N**Oo!" Anakin woke with a jolt, and bolted upright, burying his head in his hands, his body shivering uncontrollably with the left-over fear from the nightmare he'd been consumed in. Though the imagines faded to grey blurs, the feelings—the horrible emotions of defying truth, pain, suffering, and uncontained hatred—were left behind to torment him. He took several deep breaths to steady his pounded heart, then looked up and around his room, familiarizing himself with it once more. He swung his legs over the bedside and rose stiffly, shuddering as his body was exposed to the chilly night air, and made his way out of the room. He didn't know where he was going until he looked up and found himself on the large veranda and private landing platform of the apartment. Between the cream-colored sofas, a fountain of skelly wrought stone sat, its water bubbling soothingly, cool steam sipping off it as Anakin absentmindedly approached and reached down, letting his hand soak in its swirling waters. It smoothed the turmoil within, and he felt his tense body gradually relax as he straightened up and strode to the veranda's edge. He crossed his arms behind his back, feet apart in a stance of readiness but serenity. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply of the fresh air unpolluted by the multitude of racing pods and speeders that sped Coruscant's airways, and let himself go into the flow of the Force; its power rising with in him causing peace to flow freely through his veins. He let all of his emotions go, drifting away with the currents of the Force, until he reached that point where he was aware of everything and nothing simultaneously, and he was walking in an abyss of colors, shapes, imagines, faces past and present that came and went quickly through his mind. His keen senses became aware of the shifting winds and steady increasing _hum_ created by passing air-traffic, then predawn silence, then the awaking day as the sun steadily revealed itself in the east behind him. But it was all of no importance to the tranquility he allowed himself to briefly enjoy.

Anakin didn't know when he became aware of her, but only that he did. The warmth, the peace and patience her presence brought soothed him. He was still unhappy with the prospect of training her, but he was quickly excepting the fact. Not that Padmé would be a difficult apprentice, but Anakin was disappointed that the Council had neglected her education; it would be frustrating for both of them having to start from scratch.

"Are you alright?" Her gentle voice came out of the semi-darkness of predawn, and Anakin opened his eyes as he felt her approach him.

"I'm fine," he answer, but they both knew he wasn't telling the truth.

Padmé wouldn't be swayed, and she crossed the veranda to join him. "What is it?" she asked. "What's wrong?" The intense agony and apprehension she'd felt earlier concerned her to the point of fear. She still sensed some of the conflict in her Master, though it was now more subdued and tightly concealed behind locked shields.

"What's wrong, Anakin?" she asked again, laying a hand on his shoulder. The muscles under her hand were straight and tense, and she draw back her hand as if they'd stung her. Padmé looked at Anakin with worry; she was suddenly scared and she didn't know why. He didn't seem to be know that she was there, standing right behind him—though infect he was perfectly aware of her presence—and she asked again, in the voice of a young frightened being, "Anakin?"

Her voice itself was enough to stir him back to reality, and Anakin blinked, realizing that he'd probable blacked out in his thoughts, and looked up into Padmé's pale, drawn face. His throat tightened involuntarily as he realized he was a cause of her pain, and his heart reached out towards her at the same time he reached out with the Force to reassure her.

_I'm alright. It-it was nothing._

Padmé frowned, disbelieving him, and her eyes darkened dangerously on him, challenging him to tell her or dare not to; she was a force to be reckoned with if he so much as ventured to cross paths with her in such a manner.

Anakin sighed and turned away from her and striding across the length of the veranda to its far end where he stopped, hands behind back, and looked back out across the cityscape.

"It-" he finally spoke. "It was a dream."

Padmé said nothing, waiting on him to continue in due time.

"I saw… A man in pain," Anakin reached up and ran a hand through his thick, curling hair in frustration and worry as the what imagines he could recall returned to him in full ferocity.

"And?" Padmé gentle urged him to continue.

"H-he was pain, and was calling m-my name," Anakin said confused. "I-I just don't understand it."

"Do…" Padmé hesitated, wanting if it was very wise to ask him such a question, but she recall once reading an entry on a datapad talking about Jedi possessing the rare ability to receive visions of the future, and wonder briefly if this was something similar. "Do you often have dreams?"

"Yes—and no," Anakin was very reluctant to tell her the full truth, and she thankfully didn't push him. In truth, Anakin was often plagued by dreams of varies sorts and numerous themes. He'd told no-one—not even Obi-Wan—but he'd once dreamt of Qui-gon's death at the hand of the Sith; he'd also dreamt of Ahsoka leaving the Jedi Order forever, and that point had simply brushed it aside as some sort of insanity. The fact reminded, however, that his dreams did indeed _come true. _ But this dream—or vision—he'd now received unnerved him in a strange sort of way, as Anakin had absolutely no idea

Anakin shook his head, still too confused to properly decipher any piece of the confusion puzzle. He turned away, and made his way back to the veranda sofas, suddenly feeling more emotionally weary than he'd ever remembered being, the events of the previous week taking its toil on him. He sat down, and watched with indifferent interest as Padmé followed him.

"I'm sorry," he felt the need to somehow apologize to her. "I-I just can't tell you all." _Not that I would want to anyway,_ he added grumpily, sourly.

"That's alright," said Padmé, even if inwardly she didn't believe it was will at all. "I understand." _Unfortunately. _

"Thank you," Anakin soundly relieved by her compassion and sympathy. "I think I'm going to get some more sleep." He reached for the nearby cushions, and laid his head down.

Seeing that all he momentarily desired was the blissful escape-age of unconsciousness, Padmé murmured "I'll leave then" and hurriedly retreated back to her room. Anakin watched her through half-closed eyes, and smiled grimly to himself before the darkness of sleep once again enveloped him into its folds, fortunately this time with no dreams.

Θ

** "E**we-aww!"

Brilliant light and something acutely furry brushing up against his bare feet caused Anakin start awake. The tingles and shivers the tickling object against his flesh cause him to quickly pull away. Unfortunately for him, his mind was still in the process of registering where exactly he was, and because of that he lost his precious balance on the narrow sofa and fell with a _thump!_ to the floor.

Soft bubbles of laughter reached his ears, and squinting against the sunlight, Anakin could just barely make out the figure of Padmé standing over him, holding her waist as she tried not to hapovitalate. He frowned, realizing she'd purposely tricked him.

"Oh, hehe," Padmé giggled, "_That _wasn't what I was expecting. Hehehe." She collapsed onto the sofa, laughing.

Anakin wasn't amused to say the least, and he stood stiffly up, grimacing as his hardened muscles protested against the action.

"What did you do _that_ for?" he asked annoyedly.

Padmé sobered up enough to say, "I was trying to wake you."

"Well, well done."

"Oh come on, it was hilarious!"

"It freaked me out!" Anakin tried to defend himself, but by now he was trying not to let a smile touch his lips, unsuccessfully.

Padmé finally stopped giggling, but her eyes still danced with the merriment, "Alright, I'm sorry then."

_She's not at all, _Anakin thought, but he grinned anyway. "What time is it?" He asked, glancing around and noticing that the sun was fully up and brightly shinning.

"Mid-morning."

_Stang!_

"You better get dressed and eat breakfast—brunch—quickly, if you're coming with me to the Senate. We have to leave in an hour."

_Great, just peace-y_, Anakin thought grumpily as he followed Padmé out of the veranda space and through the rest of the apartment to the nearby kitchen. By now he noticed that she'd traded her nightgown and rob for a full gown of rich, earthy brown. Gold and off-white embroidery edged the high collar and cap-sleeves. Her hair was done in simple twisted side buns, and simple amber earrings felt like liquid drops from her ears. Anakin felt once again captivated and inambered by her beauty, so much in fact, that he was totally and completely unaware that he was standing, awestruck in the middle of her kitchen until Padmé stepped up right in front of him and waved a hand before his face.

Anakin blinked then blushed bright red. "Err, sorrow."

Padmé stood back and smirked, amused, but said, "There's food on the counter," she brushed by him on her way out of the kitchen, "and you're clothes on your bed."

Anakin nodded, and greeted by the sight of freshly brewed caff and gruel and bacon for him, he faithfully dug in, more than ready to start the day with such a meal in him, even if it did involved going to the Senate with Padmé.

The food was gone, and he was fully clothed in his usual Jedi tunics of dark brown and dreary black by the time Padmé remerged, now fully prepared for the upcoming day. Her hair and make were perfect in place, and her attire was officially complete with a richly embroidered rusty-red over-rob. She grabbed the last of her datapads reports and documents, and entered the living room where Anakin awaited her, boredly fingering his lightsaber. His eyes lit up at the sight of her, and he sprang to his feet.

"Ready to go?" he said.

Padmé nodded, and took his officered hand, let him lead her onto the turbo-lift.


	4. Chapter 4

**3**

** T**he Senate Building was swarming with senators and politicians from all areas of the galaxy—except those, of course, who'd split from the Republic and joined the Separatist case, aliens and humanoids from star systems large and small; it was here that they gathered to debate and amend the Republic constitution. Anakin wasn't a stranger to the Senate or its complex politics that always seemed to end up making him baffled and irritated. The Jedi was, in fact, a friend of the Viceroy Bail Organa of Aldrerran, and an even closer friend to the Supreme Chancellor Palpatine. He came here often, mostly to relate the latest reports in from the front lines to the Chancellor. He also sometimes went just to see a dear old friend who'd always been there for him. Anakin had met Palpatine shortly after Qui-gon's death when Obi-Wan and Mace Windu had decided to take the boy to a session of politic. They'd become insistent friends—Anakin because of his youth and naivety took a great liking to the kind middle-aged man that always somehow seemed to have time for him and his questions. Palpatine had no reason not to like the young Padawan learner, and both had remain fast friends ever since.

But if Anakin was truly honest to himself, he would've noticed that the last few years had put a great strain on their relationship. Before the war, he'd been able to go to Palpatine with _any _problem—there was only so much he could tell Obi-Wan or the Council—and they'd talked over the issue in a civilized, straight-forward manner. Now Anakin began to notice a change. He noticed he was no longer eager to speak too freely with the Chancellor; for some reason some invisible hand held him back. He began to question Palpatine's wisdom, more-so now that rumors began to surface that he was gaining too much power within the Senate and over the Army, and had outlasted his terms too long. But the people loved him and he was willing to do _anything _to ensure their security and trust.

Anakin walked with this new thoughts swirling around him as he accompanied Padmé into the Senate Building, absentmindedly nodding and smiling whenever an aid or senator glanced his way. They made their way through the crimson colored halls and down the stairs to the Convocation Chamber of the Senate Building where most large debates were held in their individual secessions.

"General Skywalker," the close voice of Viceroy Organa stirred Anakin, and he looked up to the older man before him.

"Senator Organa," the Jedi clasped the other man's hand in greeting.

"It's good to see you, General," said Bail as he accompanied them down the hallway. "Alive and in one piece. The war goes badly they say."

"They do?" Anakin was surprise such information was known to the senator, it wasn't false. Indeed the war had taken a turn for the worst in the last six months and the Clone Army had suffered severe losses. The only reason Anakin wasn't with his troops was because of Ahsoka and Padmé—and the little simple fact that he hadn't taken a respite from fighting for well over a year.

"News travels fast in some parts of the galaxy," said Organa knowingly.

"It's must not have taken the HoloNet that long to find out," Padmé commented by Anakin's side.

"No, it didn't," and Bail frowned. "The Chancellor's suppose to be talking with the leaders of the press, but I'll doubt it'll do much good. Something will leak, and the people _will_ know. In the meanwhile, we can see what we can do to stop this war."

"We're trying our best," said Anakin on behalf of the Jedi and Clones under his command. "But there's only so much even the Jedi can do."

Bail nodded, but his frown only deepened. "I—have more to say," he turned and looked at them with concerned eyes. Anakin felt his anxiety and fearfulness shimmer through the Force, and he watched the older man, trying to determine anything simply from his body language or facial expression. But Organa was too good at keeping himself neutral.

"Is something wrong, Bail?" Padmé had also felt something.

"I must tell you something," he answered, then glanced at Anakin closely following them, and added, "both of you."

With mental understanding, they turned aside from entering the Convocation Chamber and then into Bail's private office. He dismissed his aid, and with a wave of the Force, Anakin closed the metal doors behind them, providing them with complete privacy and isolation from prying ears.

"I'm not sure what to make of this," Bail began, setting down at his desk and folding his hands stately before him while Anakin and Padmé took their own seats. "I've told you," he looked at Padmé, "what I feel about the Chancellor, but I think it's time I also tell General Skywalker—I have the feeling the Jedi might be interested in what I have to say." He took a deep breath, releasing it with controlled ease, "This morning several senators and aids were found died—poisoned and shot down. This morning was also when the Senate gave even more emergency powers to the Chancellor. I suspect they're connected, for some of these senators found died were going to appose the majority. Everyone believes it's Dooku's fault, but… I'm not so sure it is." Bail sighed and rubbed his forehead wearily. "I don't like where all of this going," he stated. "The Senate has given too much power to the Chancellor, and he insists they give him more—"

"What are you saying?" Anakin interrupted. He didn't particularly like what Bail was saying and where he was going, despite the fact that he knew that it was all too true.

Organa looked at Skywalker in the eyes, and said bluntly, "There is too much suspicion around this war, and around the Chancellor. I believe he intended to murder those senators to secure the vote—"

"But the Chancellor's a good man!" Anakin insisted, "he would _never_ murder innocent people!"

"Would he?" Bail challenged, looking down at the younger man with hard eyes. "Personally, _I_ don't trust him and his motives."

"Neither do I," Padmé spoke up before Anakin could hotly abject, "But there's nothing we can do about it right now. It would have to take more then half of the Senate to oppose the Chancellor in order for him to be impeached. And we both know that's nearly impossible."

"Yes…" Bail's voice faded away, and he looked out of the nearby window thoughtfully. Anakin sensed that there was more he wanted to say, yet he was determining whether or not it would be wise to say it now in front of the Jedi. Finally, Organa turned back, "There's more I want to say, but—I think this isn't the time to say it." He stood up, "I want you to be extra careful, Senator Naberrie. We may privately oppose the Chancellor, but if he finds out, I have no doubt he'll take extreme managers to ensure that our belief doesn't spread. I'd advise you to get yourself better protection."

"I have the General with me," said Padmé, glancing at Anakin beside her. "He's all the protection I need."

Bail looked skeptical, but he said nothing as they stood and moved out of his office, making their way back down the corridor to the Convocation Chamber. The halls were quickly emptying as the senators and their aids and advisers went to their assigned positions in preparation of the coming secession. Padmé turned aside to speak with a tall, white-robed woman with short red hair and a pale, almost gentle face with eyes of durasteel that seemed to pierce right to the soul; Anakin recalled her being named Mon Mothma of Chandrila. He made to go join the two ladies who stood aside from entering the Convocation Chamber and talked idly about the upcoming votes, but a steady hand stopped him.

"May I have a word with you, General," said Bail.

Anakin let Bail pull him aside to darker shadows just outside the entrances. "Yes?"

"I'm worried about Padmé," said Bail. "You _will_ keep an eye on her?"

"Yes. She is my apprentice after all."

Bail seemed to relax, and he even tried to smile, "Good—I'm glad. But she may be safer on the battle-lines then in the Senate. I fear she's been making too many enemies of late—even, maybe, the Chancellor."

Anakin frowned at this. "I don't share you're distrust of the Chancellor, Viceroy. He's been my longest friend, I would know if something was wrong."

Bail nodded, "Yes." And with a final clasp of the hand and brisk nod, the Alderraan Senator left. Anakin sighed and turned away, now thoroughly confused. _I need a black caf and a nap,_ he thought wistfully as Padmé finished her business with Mothma and entered the Chamber, _And then I need to meditated. _

There was a lot he needed to meditate on, and none of it was very pleasant.

Θ

**T**he following debate primarily concerning the Banking Clan and its debts. After that brief secession came another, now over the inheritance of a planetary system. Then, finally, came the dominating topic of discussion and debate; the war. Anakin sat in the farthest corner of the hover craft, his hood drawn up to obscure his fetchers as he watched the slow progress that the galactic senators made. It would've bored him to death if it hadn't been for the fact that he let his eyes rest on Padmé—and she alone—for most of the time. He was mesmerized by her skill and coolness she displayed while handling the different situations that came her way. Despite her age, she seemed to come more fully alive on the political field, determination hardened by the opposition of her enemies.

"—all that it will serve to do will lengthen this war and increases our casualties!" she was saying. "This war _must not_ be allowed to continue!"

"And how will we stop the war!" other senator's shouted angrily. "Do you suggest we sign a peace treaty with the Separatists?" one alien politician asked in disbelief.

"If that is the only way to stop this war, then yes—" began Padmé.

"Traitor! Disloyaltiest! Treason!" Numerous voices clamored.

Anakin began to feel his blood boil by the assumptions; he took a deep breath and willed himself to become calm and emotionless within the Force.

"I do _not_ side with the Separatists!" Padmé shouted out after the noise had cased. "There are Separatist Senators that want this war to end just as much as we do—"

"That's impossible!" shouted one senator. "Look what they did this morning. This must not go unpunished!" Others cried out in agreement.

Padmé sighed, and stepped down as the Speaker of the House banged his staff for silence before Palpatine response to the argument.

"Senators," his aged voice rang out, demanding the attention of all even though it was barely above its normal tone, "this horrible war will need. With our good Jedi and our blessed Clone Army, I've sure will find a way to deal with Dooku and save the Republic from the Separatists. As for the murder this morning—I've already assigned the best investigators to look for the murders. They will be dealt with accordingly, and our revenge will be complete!"

A shiver of uneasy ran down Anakin's spine, and he shifted uncomfortably at Palpatine's statement, _If they got a Jedi, the assassins would've already been found, _Anakin thought. He sighed, and continued to observe, not really listening to whatever the Chancellor was saying next, it didn't really matter anyway, there were just empty words spoken for the befit and security of the surrounding senators. The war wasn't going anywhere with their petty discussions, but it would end with the point of a lightsaber to Dooku's throat, Anakin was sure of it, and he knew _he_ would be responsible for it as well.

Anakin shook his head and blinking, clearing his conscious of such worries, and looked up in time to see Padmé set down across from him, her face pale, brows furrowed together in worry.

"What's wrong," Anakin softly asked, sensing her unease and frustration.

Padmé didn't have time to answer for suddenly a piecing scream ranked the Chamber, and she jumped to her feet. A loud _boom doom _resounded a second later as debris of stone and wood begin to fall like rain down upon the assembled Senate. They scattered for the entrances, but not everyone made it. Anakin saw a few hit and crushed by the debris. There was more explosions around them, and the sense of danger intensified around them.

"Padmé!" Anakin shouted over the noise, grabbing her arm and pulling her towards the nearest entrance, "get out of here!"

Padmé looked skeptical, and hesitated.

That pause could've cast her her life.

An explosion detonated right behind them, shaking the very foundations of the building and flinging them to the floor like rag dolls tossed to the wind. Anakin heard a scream close by, and looking up through the swirling dust and flames that had broken out all over the place, he saw Padmé being dragged away by the hands of her would-be assassin. Anger fused up in him, and the Jedi leapt up, lightsaber in hand and suddenly ignited. With a bound, he was on-top of the black-robed man and cut through the armor around his throat, spilling green blood of a none-human. Anakin leapt back and grabbed Padmé, pulling her away from the assassin as quickly as possible. They went a few seconds, enter the ruined hall just outside the Convocation Chamber before Padmé collapsed against Anakin, breathing heavily.

"M-my leg," she gasped out, "something's—wrong."

Anakin glanced down, and then saw that the hem of her gown had been charred and thorn, exposing her slender legs—one of which was bent to an abnormal angle. Bright blood ran down it from a multitude of cuts and scratches. Padmé wouldn't last long with the wound, so Anakin had no other choice but to carefully pick her up in his arms, holding her close to him, and make his way through the rubble out of the Senate Building. Alarms and sirens rang out as a host of rescues and security and emergency droids scrambled through the rock and twisted durasteel looking for survivors. Anakin ignored their glances or attempts to help him as he made his way down through the levels of the Senate Building to the landing platforms where his speeder was parked; he was taking Padmé to the Jedi Healers at the Temple where he would then find out what was going on.

"Where are we going?" Padmé asked faintly as he placed her in the passenger's seat and slid on in beside her.

"To the Temple," Anakin engaged the engines, and once up and running, steered the speeder up away in the direction of the Jedi Temple.

"But—" She began.

"No _buts_ about it." Anakin cast her a stern look, not feeling very patience or compassionate at the moment, "You're injured, and I want to know what's going on."

Padmé excepted his answer with sour silence as they made their quick way to the Temple.

Θ

"**A**pparently both the murder this morning and the bombing of the Senate this afternoon were planned out by the same criminals," Obi-Wan stated to Anakin after he'd made his escape from the Medical Ward of the Temple after he'd been retained and thoroughly checked over by Vokara Che; he'd come unscathed from the confutation earlier.

"Have you found who they're working for?" Anakin asked.

"No—but we have a few ideas," said Obi-Wan. "Dooku is, of course, the obvious target, but we've made not connections between him and the assassins—we're not even entirely sure if he was the leader behind this."

"What about General Grievious? He's hiding out somewhere on the Outer Rim, and any desperate criminal or bounty hunter probably wouldn't mind doing his dirty work closer to home."

"True…" Obi-Wan frowned, and sighed. "But I have a feeling there's much more at work here than meets the eye," he added, more as if speaking to himself than the younger Jedi close beside him.

Anakin's eyes narrowed as he caught wind of intentional meaning behind the words spoken, "What do you mean?"

"This just came out, only the Jedi and Republic Security know. But apparently during the bombing, Chancellor Palaptine was captured."

"_Captured?!_" Anakin draw back as if suddenly stung by a potent reptile.

"Yes," Obi-Wan draw closer, and laid a hand on his young friend's arm. "Palpatine's body wasn't found in the Senate, and he's nowhere on the planet at all."

Anakin stopped in mid stride, and stared at Obi-Wan in disbelief, his mind attempting to ignore the truth, but the damage had been done and he could feel everything in all honesty through the Force. The Chancellor was gone. His wise, shining presence had vanished from Coruscant's atmosphere, and the Senate—and Republic—would be thrown in fatal caso as soon as the news broke out. Anakin could well imagine the hell that would erupt after this—and the pleasure the Separatists would take in it as well.

Anakin's jaw instinctively clunched, and his hands balled into fists. "What are we going to do?" he said very quietly, very controlled.

Obi-Wan recognized that voice, and his face paled every so slightly; it was the tone his young friend took on when he was absolute control of his spiraling emotions, and an indication that he was becoming dangerously close to the breaking point. The older Jedi land a hand on his shoulder, and tightened his grip this time.

"There's nothing we _can _do," answered Obi-Wan sadly. "Everything is happening to quickly, and we have no idea where the Chancellor may be. We've already began searching for him, but right now the Council wants you to rejoin with your troops in the Outer Rim—"

"What about Padmé?" Anakin interrupted him. "She's my apprentice, and she's wounded—"

"She will go with you as soon as she's healed. In the mean time, you can help us investigate the assassination attempts here on Coruscant. It will also provide opportunity to get to know the Senator better," Obi-Wan added slyly.

Anakin grimaced, but inwardly his heart jumped at the opportunity. Despite the fact that he was becoming increasingly restless planet-bound, and the fact that he would much rather be searching for the captured Chancellor in the Outer Rim territories, he would also not deny the fact that he wanted to spend some more time with his new apprentice. He took a deep, steady breath, and unclenched his hands, forcing himself to relax—there would be better opportunities for that in later dates.

"Fine," Anakin stated flatly. He turned away, and walked down the hall towards the medical ward of the Temple to see Padmé. She was already fast asleep when he arrived and entered her room. She'd severely twisted an ankle and suffered extreme cuts and burns, but the Jedi Healers had put in her healing trance and were watching her carefully as her skin began to slowly mend itself back together. Anakin watched her unconscious form transfixed, and couldn't resist the temptation to set by her bedside and take up one of her small, slender hands, warming in it his own. In that brief moment when it was just the two of them, a obscure corner of his subconscious suddenly realized that he no longer missed Ahsoka—and that he no longer thought of her abrupt absence every waking hour. Then the door to the room hissed open, and Anakin looked up in time to see Master Vokara Che enter, an informational datapad in her hands.

"Master Skywalker," She greeted him seriously. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"I just wanted to see how my apprentice was doing," said Anakin, ignoring the quiet, hidden rebuke in the Healer's voice. "I see you helped her into a trance."

"Yes," said Che. "It will be quite beneficial—_if _she is left alone. Please, Master Skywalker, I know how much she means to you, but I believe you have more important matters to deal with right now."

Yellow fire flashed up in Anakin's eyes, but his voice remained calmly professional. "Yes, you are right, Master Che. I will then." He turned to go, then stopped short of the door, and looked back, adding, "But please notify me when she awakes."

"Of course."

And the door _hissed-snapped_ behind the retreating Jedi.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I'm back! **

**It's been a long time, and sadly I can't promise you I'll update more often (blame it on LIFE:( But I'm really excited for this chapter, since there's a particular element I didn't know this story needed until only a few days ago** **(wait, _WHAT?!_****). **

**Tell me what you think, and Enjoy! **

**4**

** S**ticky rain wormed its way down the neck of Anakin's cloak, casing him to shiver from its icy tendrils. He grimaced in distaste as he squinted ahead into the darkness around him. It was hard enough to see down the alleyways and swampy streets of Coruscant's lower-levels, but the rain made it ten times worst. He cursed Dooku's name as he turned down a dark street littered with all sorts of trash and vermin, ignoring the foul smells and evil eyes that peered out from the shadows.

Another droplet of rain down his spin, and Anakin sighed. This was useless: Chancellor Palpatine was nowhere to be found, but the Jedi Council insisted to look for him here. They'd already sent search parties out to search among the Core Planets and Outer Rim Territories. Anakin wished he'd gone with them, but at the last minute the Council had declined his request—for a reason they'd yet to reveal.

"You will get your chance," Obi-Wan said after Anakin had complained to him about their decision. "And remember, there's the Senator, and she's not yet healed."

Anakin still felt a stab of annoyance and regret when he thought of Padmé. A part of him knew better than to blame her for forcing him to stay planet-bound, and he really _did_ like the time he spent with her in the Med Ward. During those visits, Anakin began to teach her the ways of the Force; first lavation and elevating balls, easy fighting positions with a practice saber, and mediation. It wasn't much, but it was a start, and he had an eager pupil. He was glad he wasn't teaching Padmé in the middle of life-and-death situations as he had with Ahsoka.

Ahsoka.

Her name brought Anakin back to reality as he reached the end of the street.

He looked back and forth before drifting into the nearest shadows on the other side of an enjoining street. He reached its safety, and breathed a sigh of relief as his presences went undetected by a squadron of police droids passing by. As soon as they'd gone, Anakin took out his comlink, and dialed Obi-Wan's.

A shimmering hologram of his weary face soon appeared, and he asked patiently, "Yes, Anakin, what is it?"

"Nothing," Anakin answered. "I've searched seventy of the levels, and found nothing. I don't think the assassins have him here."

"You're probably right," Obi-Wan reluctantly agreed, "but we can't be sure. Reports have come in from the others, and they've said the same: nothing on the Chancellor's whereabouts."

"There's something suspicious about this," said Anakin. "I sense a trap."

"So do I," said Obi-Wan. He frowned, and seemed greatly troubled for a moment. He looked up again and smiled tightly, "You might as well return to the Temple, Anakin. The Council is assembling an emergency meeting, and your presence is required."

"Yes, Master, I will be there."

"Be sure you are," after a final goodbye, Anakin shot off the comlink connection, and slipped in his speeder.

Some time later, Anakin found himself running down the Temple halls to the Council Chamber, already late for their emergency session. He ran his hand through his hair, and slid into the nearest turbolift, almost colliding with another Jedi. The older Twi'lek shot him a dirty look and Anakin felt a spark of annoyance from him just as the lift doors closed. The minute or so that it took him to reach the Council Chamber was enough time to re-gather his breath and calm himself before facing the irritable members of the Jedi Council; Anakin was far from looking forward to this, but it would be interesting to see what the others had to say on the matter about the missing Chancellor.

"I apologize for being late," Anakin said robotically as soon as he stepped out of the turbolift into the Chamber.

"We except your apology," said Mace Windu with a frown, and he motioned to a nearby seat. "Now, Skywalker, take a seat."

Anakin obeyed, and took his place among the other Jedi. He wasn't on the Council—_yet_—but he was a Master now, and possessed skills and knowledge valuable to the Order, thus his word was often considered on some important matters—_except, of course, in the matter with Padmé_, Anakin thought sourly as he listened to the talk drag on around him.

"It appears Dooku is not responsible for Chancellor Palpatine's capture," said Ki-Adi-Mundi.

"This for sure, we do not know," said Yoda solemnly. "Behind this attack, we know not yet, but working with Dooku and Grievious, I sense they are."

A murmur of doubt ran through the Jedi Mastes, along with troubled expressions.

"What worries me," said Obi-Wan, "is how this might be associated with the earlier assassination attempts."

Yoda looked at him and cocked his head to one side, a puzzled expression crossing his green fetchers. "Your feelings, explain, Obi-Wan," the old Jedi probed him on.

"I don't know," Obi-Wan said uncertainly, "but I feel that there is far more to this then meets the eye. I've been uneasy around the Chancellor before, but this all seems too—" he sighed and looked down, unable or unwilling to continue for fear of somebody objecting. But Anakin sense his underlying thoughts, and under the flood of anger and fierce loyalty he felt towards the Chancellor, a part of him couldn't help but question the present situation again. He recalled Bale Organa's words, and suddenly wondered what more the Viceroy had wanted to say; _I wonder if I should pay a visit with him…._

"Anakin!" He blinked and opened his eyes at the sound of Windu's voice, he'd apparently spaced out from the conversation.

Anakin looked up, "Yes?"

He could feel Windu's heightening annoyance all the way from the across the room. "The Council is asking what you think of this matter?"

Anakin paused and looked around at the other Jedi, trying to determine how much to say and how exactly to say it. He decided it would be better if he kept it short and to the point, revealing as little as possible.

"I—think Master Kenboi is right," said Anakin, choosing his words very carefully. "There _is_ something wrong here, but we have to continue searching for the Chancellor. Without his leadership, the Republic will be destroyed in a matter of days."

Windu frowned. "I fear you are right," He reluctantly agreed with Anakin, "and we can't allow that to happen, that is why we have encouraged the Senate to choose a new leader in the Chancellor's absence."

The Jedi Masters looked at each other in surprise.

"We should have no say in the matter," said Ki-Adi-Mundi sadly.

"No," said Yoda, tapping his walking stick against his chair, "but help the proceedings, we can, and say who is best for leadership, we can. Meanwhile…" The old Jedi Master's voice suddenly faltered, and he closed his eyes as if warding off a great weariness.

But Mace Windu continued for him, and said, "In the meantime, we have a mission for you and your apprentice, Skywalker…"

Θ

**"W**hy Padmé?" Anakin turned and glared laser bolts at Obi-Wan as they left the Council Chamber.

Obi-Wan sighed, rubbing his temples, "The Council explained why, Anakin. She's the only one of us in the Senate, _and _she's worked with Clovis before."

Anakin frowned. He didn't know Padmé very well even after spending a few days with her, but he hadn't taken her to be the type to indulged in too many relationships—especially in a work circle. She was far too rational for that.

"I just didn't know she knew Rush Clovis," Anakin begrudgingly admitted, disliking the taste of the Senator's name in his mouth. He was wary of most Senators and Politicians in general, but now that the Jedi Council had rumors of treason within the InterGalactic Banking Clan, it made him detest them even more. The rumored treason was horrible timing with the missing Chancellor, and Anakin was suddenly very suspicious of all of it.

"Apparently, they were…._old _friends," Obi-Wan regretfully replied. Anakin sensed sadness coming off of him at the memory. The young Jedi slowed his stepped, and glanced at his old Master.

"What happened?" He quietly asked.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath. "They entered the Senate in the same season and severed on the same committees together," he said slowly. They became _very _close. When Padmé was informed that she wouldn't continue her Jedi training for a while, she was quite upset. Around the same time, Clovis returned to his home planet of Scipio. I think their friendship ended badly."

Anakin looked away, thinking.

Obi-Wan turned and laid a hand on his shoulder. He looked Anakin in the eyes, saying sternly, "It wouldn't be wise to talk about this with the Senator, Anakin."

"I won't," Anakin promised, _at least not now. _

Obi-Wan smiled tightly, and it was then Anakin sensed something else, something deeper and darker under that calm façade.

"Master? What is it?"

Obi-Wan glanced away, his eyes glossy and descent, but his usually controlled emotions were getting the better of him, and the younger Jedi could sense his anxiety, doubt, sorrow…and fear. Fear for something, someone Anakin couldn't see.

"Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan looked back at Anakin, his face expressionlessly, the type of face that brings back bad news. "The Council wouldn't want me to tell you this," he said, "but I think under the circumstances, you should know the truth."

Anakin frowned, confused.

"Have you ever wondered _why _exactly Padmé was appointed your apprentice?"

Anakin shrugged, "A-Ashoka left, and the Council thought it would be good if I had someone to take her place." _If anyone can. _"Senator Naberrie never completed her training, and no other Master would take her. Why do you ask? Is there more?"

Obi-Wan nodded, "Those are _some _of the explanations the Council's given, but not all. This information is known only to a few, but I was your Master so I was expected to know everything. I don't agree with any of it…"

Anakin rolled his eyes, "Obi-Wan, please get to your point."

"Through time together and training, the Council wants you and Padmé to become a couple."

_No. _

"They've seen what you have done, Anakin, " Obi-Wan went on. "What you are capable of. They know how powerful you are—"

_No. _

"NO!" Anakin held up his hand to stop Obi-Wan, he didn't want to hear more, he'd heard too much already. He guessed what Obi-Wan was saying, what the Council was thinking, and it made him sick. "No, Master, I won't do this. I refuse to be used by the Council for this."

"Anakin, it's for your own good," Obi-Wan reasoned. "I don't agree with the Council, but I can see where they're coming from. You are the Chosen One! If you were to die, all hope will be lost, and the Sith _will_ win."

"And having children will fix that?"

Obi-Wan didn't response. Anakin turned away, trying hard to restrain his growing anger. He repented the Jedi Code five times under his breath, but it only served to infuriate him further. How _dare_ they believe he would want to reproduce his midi-chlorian count on a _what if_ he died. He had died yet. He wouldn't.

"Does Padmé know?" Anakin asked, _because if she does... I don't know what I'm going to do. _

"No," said Obi-Wan. "You can't tell her."

"But you told me?"

"I told you so that you could protect her, Anakin. I don't know what the Council plans on doing. There is so much at stake, and the Dark side is clouding our judgment. You must be careful. You must protect Padmé."

"I will," and Anakin swore on his whole life. He vowed he would protect Padmé from anything and everything, but then again he was her Master and she was his primary responsibility. And, he vowed he would never fall in love with her…_ever_.

"Good," said Obi-Wan more cheerfully than before. "It's time for me to go. Here are your order for mission. Goodbye old friend." He clasped Anakin on the shoulder and handed him the datapad full of the mission information, then left. Anakin sighed, desperately wishing the conversation of the past few minutes hadn't happened, that Obi-Wan hadn't told him the terrible truth behind the Council's intentions.

Datapad in hand, he walked through the Temple to the Med Ward. He asked to see Padmé and followed the droid inside just as Master Vokara Che emerged. They stopped and greeted each other with restrained irritation.

"When will Padmé be released?" asked Anakin.

Vokara Che frowned, and answered resentfully, "In two days. The Council has ordered me to released her far earlier than I would've liked, on the grounds they have a _very _important mission for her that can't wait."

_What mission? _Anakin wondered, _There's apparently _two_ important missions the Council has for me and her. _

"I see," said Anakin as he made to go around the stiff Jedi. "I'll keep an eye on her—" He made a quick escape into the room as the doors slid behind the scowling Che.

_How can Padmé put up with her? She's such a b—_

"Master!"

Anakin glanced up at Padmé's voice, and smiled at her as he approached the bed. The room was cool and dim. The Senator was setting up in her bed, but only her dark eyes moved, watching Anakin as he walked towards her. He pulled up a chair, and sat down, gingerly reaching out to take her hand.

"How are you doing?" He asked as he took the cold fingers.

"Well," Padmé replied.

Anakin released their contact, acutely aware of what he'd done, and sat back, crossing his arms as he said, "The Council has a mission for us." He handed her the datapad and waited as she scanned the information.

"No," said Padmé when she was done. "I can't—I am not going to spy on a colleague."

"You have to, Padmé. There's a lot at stake here." Anakin lowered his voice and leaned closer to her, looking into her eyes with all earnesty. "The Council believes Rush Clovis has sided with Dooku. You have to find out if that's true."

A small sigh escaped Padmé. She dropped the datapad on the sheets beside her, and closed her eyes. A wave of weariness mixed with hopelessness flooded through the Force towards Anakin, and his heart clutched. On impulse, he leaned over and grasped her hand again, looking up into her dark eyes and said softly,

"It's alright, Padmé. I'll be there. I'll take care of you."

_Always. _


End file.
